


The Blow Job

by DarkwingDukat (pushingcrazies)



Series: Operation: Cereal [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Brief mention of homophobia, Closeted Character, F/M, Handwaving of con details, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, This is PWP that is really trying to have a plot and not quite succeeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24288022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingcrazies/pseuds/DarkwingDukat
Summary: When the con doesn't quite go to plan, Eliot decides to improvise. It has...unexpected consequences.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer, Eliot Spencer/OMC
Series: Operation: Cereal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818454
Comments: 83
Kudos: 371





	1. Chapter 1

They stormed into Nate’s living room, Eliot leading the way. Trying to escape them. The others. The ones talking over each other, creating way too much noise to be heard distinctly. Normally, Eliot would be right in the thick of it, but not tonight.

Tonight, he was on the receiving end of the cacophony of voices. It was giving him a ferocious headache.

He plopped down on the couch and rubbed his tired eyes. Sophie perched on the arm of the couch, while Nate paced behind her; Hardison sat on the edge of the armchair, leaning forward like he might spring up at any second; Parker folded herself onto the opposite end of the couch from Sophie. Boxing Eliot in. And still, _still_ , fucking nattering on.

“Enough,” Eliot growled, dropping his hands to his sides and mentally forcing them not to clench.

They trailed off, with Nate barking out one last “inexcusable” before falling completely silent. Waiting. For what, Eliot didn’t know. They looked at him expectantly.

Eliot’s eyes travelled from Nate’s scowl to Sophie’s miffed expression to Parker’s intense focus to Hardison’s…. averted eyes. He wouldn’t look at Eliot. Eliot’s lips twitched in irritation. Of all the goddamn stupid…

“I don’t know what y’all are so mad about,” he said.

That got them going again, voices piling on top of each other until Eliot couldn’t pick out any of their arguments. “Can’t believe” and “you should have” and “Never even occurred” and “Froot Loops” and…

Froot Loops?

Eliot squinted at Parker. “Are you just listing off cereals?” he demanded, nearly shouting to be heard over the others.

That shut them up quickly, all attention on Parker now.

“Uh, yeah?” She glanced around. “It’s just that everyone else was shouting and I’m not really sure why.”

Eliot jabbed a finger at Parker while drawing his attention back to Nate and Sophie. “See? See?? It was not a big deal.”

“How can you even _say_ that?” Sophie asked. Her fingers fidgeted with her low-cut evening gown. Normally Eliot would be all too happy to let his gaze follow the trajectory of her fingers.

Instead, he rolled his eyes. “Why are you making it into such a big fucking deal? I saw the problem, I had a solution, I followed through. End of story.”

“Not end of story,” Nate said. “You - you - you went in and…” He gestured helplessly, like he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud.

“I blew the guy,” Eliot supplied. Might as well get it all out there in the open, stop pussyfooting around.

Parker gasped. “You blew a guy up?”

“No, not up, I just-”

Her eyes got wider. “You blew him _away_? But you don’t even like guns!”

Eliot’s head thumped against the back of the couch. There went his one hope at having someone on his side, even if having Parker on your side was barely better than standing your ground on your own. “Somebody else explain it, I fucking can’t.”

“He, uh, you know.” Hardison did a truly horrible pantomime of a dick poking in and out of his cheek, with hand gestures to match. Nate made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and disappeared into his kitchen.

“Lollipop? You gave him a lollipop?” she asked Eliot.

“Sophie!” Eliot barked.

“Hardison, stop that. You’re not in middle school anymore,” Sophie said, finally taking pity on Eliot’s poor nerves. To Parker, she explained kindly, “Eliot gave Ian Stevenson a blow job in the bathroom.”

“Oh. Oh! Ohhhhh-kay. Yes, I see now,” Parker said. She levelled what passed for a stern look at Eliot. “That was very bad of you, uh, because…”

“Because i-i-it’s not what we do,” Nate exclaimed as he returned with a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. Eliot glared at him. Ignoring Eliot, Nate splashed some alcohol into the glass and downed it. “Flirt with a mark, seduce him - or her - okay, sure, maybe even stage it to look like sex happened, but to actually go through with it…. No, that’s not us. I would never ask any one of you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Eliot insisted. “Someone needed to keep Stevenson distracted, and he wasn’t picking up what Sophie was laying down.”

“Okay, but what if Sophie had been the one to do, uh, that?” Nate said. Seriously, could the guy not just say ‘blowjob’? “I mean, if it was any one of us, what would you think?”

“If it was Soph, I’d think he was one lucky guy, as long as she did it willingly,” Eliot said. His eyes travelled down the neckline of her dress. “If it was Hardison, I’d feel really sorry for the poor sonofabitch.”

Hardison made an odd squeaky noise. All eyes turned towards him, which made him blush harder. Eliot couldn’t help but smirk. “Uh,” Hardison said, “but, well, I mean, uh, none of our intel said this guy is gay. Nothing about romantic interests at all. How did you even know…?”

“What, you guys want the full play-by-play?” Eliot growled.

They exchanged glances. “Well...yeah,” Nate said, refilling his shot glass. “At - at least up to the point where you guys were actually, uh, you know.”

“Fine, then give me that.” Eliot swiped the shot glass from him and downed its contents. He was going to need fortification.

An already-long night was about to get even longer.

\---

_It should have been a relatively simple step in the con, one they had done countless times before. Nate and Sophie, dressed to the nines, at a fancy party, ready to schmooze and mingle. Hardison was in the van, secure among his gadgetry, while Eliot provided backup as a caterer. And - this was the most important part - Sophie needed to keep Mr. Ian Stevenson away from the party and completely distracted for about ten minutes so that Parker could swoop in and do her bit. Mr. Stevenson had already met Parker once and would undoubtedly recognize her; Parker had yet to master Sophie’s ability to play two different people in front of the same mark._

_“Why can’t Sophie or Nate just do the lifts if Stevenson is going to recognize me?” Parker asked._

_“You’re going to need to come in, pass through the crowd virtually unseen, hit each one of these people -” Sophie gestured to the faces on the big screen, nearly fifteen in all “- and go back out again with no one the wiser. In a little black dress, simple makeup, and a neat little up-do, you’ll be practically as invisible as if you were wearing your cat burglar outfit. More so, since you’ll blend right in. Unremarkable is the key here.”_

_Parker reluctantly agreed, albeit with a lot of glaring and pouting. It wasn’t that she balked at the challenge of the job, just that parties were not Parker’s idea of a good time. She was getting better, though. Sort of. At least she didn’t stab anyone regularly anymore._

_A good plan. A solid plan. It should have been in and out, easy peasy._

_Of course, that meant it was anything but._

_The problem, as far as Eliot could see, was that Mr. Stevenson had no interest in Sophie. She had everything a guy could want: cleavage from here to Mexico, long legs displayed tastefully through the slit that reached almost to her hip, coy smile, and a purr in her voice that would make a lesser man faint. If Eliot hadn’t known her for years, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his eyes off her as he made his way through the party with a tray of mini beef tourtieres._

_“...gorgeous building, and very old, as I understand it?” Sophie was saying, tracing her forefinger along Mr. Stevenson’s forearm. “Perhaps you’d give me a tour?”_

_“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Mr. Stevenson demurred. He glanced around. “My friend Kristof would be happy to -”_

_“No, no! It absolutely_ must _be you,” Sophie exclaimed. “I’ve heard you are the man who knows this building better than anyone.”_

_“Honestly, no. Let me get Kristof for you. He -”_

_“Beef tourtiere?” Eliot swept through Mr. Stevenson’s line of sight, breaking his concentration from looking for his friend. He subtly pivoted himself so that he drew Mr. Stevenson’s gaze back to Sophie._

_“That looks divine,” Sophie said. “Thank you. Ian?”_

_Mr. Stevenson smiled politely and took a tourtiere off Eliot’s tray just as Sophie bit into hers and “accidentally” spilled some down her cleavage._

_“Oh, how terribly clumsy of me,” Sophie said, dabbing between her breasts and trying to fish out the crumbs._

_“Here.” Eliot handed her a napkin off his tray. They did an awkward shuffle as Eliot made like he was going to dab her chest for her, and Sophie protesting and stepping to the side (closer to Mr. Stevenson) to evade his hand while taking the napkin from him at the same time._

_“Thank you, thank you - no, I’ve got it from here. Oh, I can’t believe I did that, so embarrassing.”_

_Mr. Stevenson’s eyes followed the trajectory of Sophie’s fingers, then looked away to focus on his tourtiere instead. Seriously? The guy must be insane or gay._

_“Here, sir,” Eliot said, offering him a napkin as well. “So you don’t get any on your nice suit.”_

_Mr. Stevenson blinked at him with surprise, taking the proffered napkin. His fingers brushed against Eliot’s in the pass off, and if Eliot was very much not mistaken, there was definite…. lingering._

_Ah._

_Okay._

_Eliot flashed him a tiny smile and moved away with his tray, not going far. “Beef tourtiere?” he asked a nearby couple, who waved him off. He could feel Mr. Steveson’s eyes boring into the back of his head. He glanced back at Mr. Stevenson, and sure enough their eyes met. Eliot let his tiny, polite smile turn into a smirk. Mr. Stevenson bit his lower lip in return, eyes raking Eliot from head to toe._

_Eliot continued on his trajectory, circling closer and closer to the kitchen. He made sure to keep Mr. Stevenson’s eyes on him with subtle glances and micro gestures. He barely paid any attention to Sophie’s increasingly desperate attempts to get Mr. Stevenson out of the main room and somewhere more secluded._

_Within short order, Eliot’s tray emptied. He hefted off the last tourtiere and turned squarely back to Mr. Stevenson, flashing him the empty tray and quirking an eyebrow. Mr. Stevenson gave him a slight nod. His eyes darted towards the hallway that led, Eliot knew, towards a bathroom._

_Eliot nodded back, really more of a slight jolt of his head. Visible enough, however, that Mr. Stevenson quickly disengaged himself from Sophie and began making excuses to leave. Eliot shoved his tray through the kitchen’s swinging doors and started walking towards the hallway. In his ear, he could hear Sophie protesting Mr. Stevenson’s departure._

_“Are you sure?” she asked. “But couldn’t I just tempt you -”_

_“Leave it, Soph,” Eliot growled quietly. “We’re doing Plan T.”_

_“We have a Plan T?” Parker asked._

_“We do now.”_

_“Oh, very well,” Sophie sighed. Eliot couldn’t tell if it was meant for himself or Mr. Stevenson._

_Eliot wasn’t far behind Stevenson. He got to the hallway just in time to see Stevenson disappear through the men’s bathroom doorway. He moved quickly down the hall, and just before he pushed the door open, he whispered into the comm, “Now, Parker. I’ll keep him distracted for ten minutes.” He slipped the comm from his ear and put it in his pocket; they didn’t need to hear what - or who - was about to go down._

_He entered the bathroom. It was a lavish little room with three ornate stalls and low mood lighting. Stevenson had just finished checking the stalls for any lingerers. Empty. Most of the party-goers probably didn’t even know about this bathroom, since the main one was located just to the side of the kitchen. Stevenson turned around when Eliot entered, giving him a slow once-over._

_He wasn’t a bad looking guy, really. Taller than Hardison by a couple of inches, chiselled jaw, dark green eyes. His stance and haircut screamed former military, confirmed by Hardison’s briefing earlier in the week. Even now, out of the service, the guy clearly kept in shape. Eliot could have pulled worse._

_“Hi,” Eliot said. He reached behind him and felt for the door lock. Slid it into place._

_“Hello,” Stevenson said. “What’s your name?”_

_“Is that really how you want to do this?” Eliot asked._

_“Not really,” Stevenson admitted, taking a step forward, into Eliot’s space. He fought the urge to step back or reach out with a lightning-fast uppercut._

_Instead, he put a hand on Stevenson’s chest and pushed. Stevenson went willingly, walking backwards into the center of the room. Eliot kept up with him pace for pace. When he had Stevenson where he wanted him, he dropped his hand, trailing it down that toned chest. Stevenson’s breath jumped._

_“You like what you see?”_

_“I don’t really see much of anything right now,” Eliot rejoined._

_Stevenson smirked and reached to undo his own cufflinks. He slipped them into his pocket before shucking the jacket. Now Eliot had a much better view of exactly how ripped this guy was. Nothing compared to himself, of course, but still…_

_Eliot reached up to loosen Stevenson’s tie; Stevenson returned the favour, fingers moving deftly along Eliot’s shirt buttons. When the shirt was fully open and untucked, Stevenson brought his hands to Eliot’s face, brushing the hair back that had escaped from his ponytail. Eliot caught the intention in Stevenson’s eyes just before he ducked down, almost too fast for Eliot to press his fingers up against Stevenson’s lips._

_“Ah ah ah,” Eliot said. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”_

_“What do you do, then?” Stevenson asked, lips brushing against the tips of Eliot’s fingers. His tongue darted out to lick Eliot’s forefinger, then pulled it into his mouth with a suggestive suck._

_Eliot’s unoccupied hand reached for Stevenson’s belt. “You’ve got the right idea,” he said, deftly undoing the buckle with just one hand._

_Stevenson’s eyes closed and his mouth opened, releasing Eliot’s finger. Eliot brought his wet digit to the growing bulge in Stevenson’s trousers, wiping the saliva along the outline of Stevenson’s cock. It had been at least two minutes by now, and Parker still needed a minimum of eight more. Of course, with his earbud in his pocket, Eliot had no way of knowing how the lifts were progressing. He could probably take his chance with teasing Stevenson for ten minutes and leave him blue-balled and aching, but that would hardly be a guaran-_

_The hallway door rattled, startling both men. Stevenson put his finger to his lips as someone pounded on the door. “Hello? Hello?”_

_Damnit, Nate. Couldn’t a guy go off script for a few minutes without someone trying to break down a door?_

_“Eliot?” Nate was quieter now, whispering just loud enough to be heard. “Eliot, are you in there?”_

_“Looks like we’re not the only ones with this idea,” Stevenson whispered in Eliot’s ear._

_Eliot chuckled softly, more at the idea of Nate meeting someone in a bathroom for a quickie than at Stevenson’s lecherous thoughts. “Occupied, man,” he said loud enough and deep enough that Nate would hear him and recognize his voice. “There’s another bathroom by the kitchen.”_

_“I - are you sure?”_

_“Pretty damn sure, man. This bathroom’s at maximum occupancy. Your Eliot ain’t here.”_

_“Could, ah, could you maybe ask around and check?”_

_What the hell did that even mean? What was Nate trying to ask? Eliot pulled away from Stevenson and turned towards the door. Stevenson grabbed his arm to stop him._

_“Do not open that door,” Stevenson hissed._

_“I’m just gonna tell the guy to get lost,” Eliot said, quiet but hopefully loud enough for Nate to hear him._

_“I can’t risk him seeing me.”_

_Ah. So that would explain why the briefing never mentioned anything like this. Stevenson covered his tracks really well. Eliot’s mouth compressed slightly, then relaxed. “Nope, no Eliot here,” he said louder. “Try the other bathroom.”_

_“Oh - okay.” Nate still sounded pretty confused, but at least his steps retreated down the hall back towards the party. How long had it been now? Four minutes? Five?_

_“Thank you,” Stevenson said, reaching up to push a lock of hair that had fallen out of Eliot’s ponytail. His eyes were relieved and - well, kind. Stevenson honestly wasn’t that bad of a guy. Not really. He was just a pawn to get at the real mark. Unfortunately, he was probably going to be ruined in the takedown._

_Hell. Might as well give the guy one little nice thing before that happened._

_“Don’t thank me yet,” Eliot advised him, sinking to his knees. “I ain’t quite finished with you.”_

_Whatever witty rejoinder Stevenson wanted to say was cut off with a gasp as Eliot unzipped his pants and eased them down over his hips to pool at his ankles. The boxers followed shortly after. Stevenson’s cock was more than half hard now, and Eliot couldn’t help but feel a little smug. This probably wouldn’t take very long at all._

_Except for one thing:_

_Eliot dug out his cell phone, peeled back the case, and pulled a condom out from where he kept it at all times. He held it up._

_Stevenson shook his head. “I’m clean, don’t worry.”_

_“Non-negotiable,” Eliot said. “I’ve heard that line too many times. I can make it feel like you aren’t even wearing it.”_

_Eliot wasn’t sure what he would do if Stevenson refused and tried to walk away. Probably just cold-clock the guy. No harm, no foul. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. Stevenson relented, nodding his acceptance. Eliot took his time, rolling the condom up Stevenson’s cock, giving it several strokes to ensure it was on securely, with the double intention of turning him on even more._

_He looked up the length of Stevenson’s well-toned body, catching his gaze. He maintained eye contact as he slowly, deliberately, opened his mouth and licked up the length of Stevenson’s cock. It had been a long time since Eliot had had a man in his mouth. The taste of latex brought a flood of memories, not all of them pleasant. Eliot hummed softly and shoved them to the back of his mind. He focused on the here and now._

_He worked his lips over the tip of Stevenson’s cock, swirling his tongue around the slit. Teasing. Stevenson’s hips twitched, eager for more. Eliot grabbed his hips, forcing him to wait until his tongue had finished exploring. Up, down, little licks, a brush of teeth that his sensitive skin could surely feel through the condom. And then, when Stevenson wasn’t expecting it, Eliot brought his lips back to the tip of Stevenson’s cock and swallowed him down as deep as he could._

_He had almost forgotten what this was like, the feel of a man inside his mouth, filling him, his teeth getting in the way, barely able to swallow. How his mouth immediately filled with saliva, pooling at his lips, and the more his head bobbed up and down, the more leaked down his chin. It wasn’t his favorite thing - it was nothing like going down on a woman, eating her out and licking her clit until she was a trembling mess under him - but he knew what he was doing. He moaned deep in the back of his throat, eyes closed and pumping up and down on Stevenson’s cock like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He knew he was the absolute picture of debauchery, and knew that it would fuel Stevenson’s lust more than any perfectly refined technique._

_“Oh fuck,” Stevenson hissed, hands carding through Eliot’s hair, dislodging the hair tie altogether. His fingers curled when Eliot hit a particularly sensitive spot, accidentally tugging on the strands that had gone all curly from the humidity of the kitchen. Eliot made a disgustingly high-pitched noise, scraping his teeth faintly along the length of Stevenson’s cock in retribution. Not hard enough to hurt, but certainly enough to make the message clear: do that again and you’d get what was coming to you._

_“Shit, your mouth is so hot,” Stevenson breathed out. Eliot moved his hands from Stevenson’s hips to his ass, grabbing and squeezing, pulling him even closer. One finger slid between his cheeks to tease at his hole - teasing only. He had no intention of going any further than that. But it sure was enough to cause Stevenson’s hips to stutter forward into Eliot’s mouth._

_“That’s so - fucking - good.” Stevenson enunciated each word with a sharp thrust into Eliot’s mouth. Eliot was really regretting making him wear a condom; it would have been over by now if he hadn’t. He was starting to lose focus and patience, wondering how the other part of the con was going, without his team in his ear to let him know. Stevenson didn’t notice his distraction, content to thrust exuberantly into Eliot’s mouth, eyes screwed shut, panting encouragement._

_Screw it. If Parker wasn’t done by now, then that was on her. Eliot faked a long, needy moan and brought his right hand to Stevenson’s balls, tickling them ever so slightly. A shiver ran up Stevenson’s spine, causing him to throw his head back. Yeah, he was close. Eliot shifted his tongue to swirl around Stevenson’s tip just once before plunging down to swallow his cock to the root. Stevenson bit off a sharp, keening cry just before it escaped his mouth. “I’m g- ughhhh.”_

_Eliot was more than ready. He whipped his mouth off Stevenson’s cock just before his too-late warning fully coalesced. He used his hand to wring the last vestiges of orgasm from Stevenson, until the poor man was trembling and ready to collapse in his grip. He gently removed the condom and tied it off, tossing it into the trash while Stevenson recovered. He almost felt sorry for the poor dupe. Almost. At least he’d gotten an orgasm out of it. That was more than most marks got._

_Eliot began buttoning his shirt back up, straightening out the wrinkles.“You’ll, uh -” His voice was hoarser than usual, rough and well-used. “You’ll need a couple minutes to straighten yourself out. I’m gonna….” He gestured towards the door._

_“Wait,” Stevenson said, already starting to come back to himself. He pulled his boxers and pants up, tucking himself away. “What about…” He glanced deliberately down at Eliot’s crotch._

_Eliot smirked at him and adjusted himself, letting his fingers linger. He was definitely aroused, mostly just from a natural physical reaction than any attraction to Stevenson. It would probably go away on its own, but he entertained the idea of finding a cute little number after he left the party. “Tell you what,” he said. “Meet me in here after the caterers pack up. I’ll be waiting for you. And I’ll be thinking about what you owe me as I make my way through the guests tonight.”_

_Stevenson grinned. “I like the way your mind works.”_

_“Don’t follow me right away,” Eliot said. “Don’t be obvious.”_

_“I won’t. I know what I’m doing.”_

_Sure he did. Eliot unlocked the door and slipped out, immediately fumbling for his comm. The whispers floating in his ear were a comfort, even if he didn’t particularly want to listen to exactly what they were saying right now. He definitely caught his name on the tail end of whatever Nate was grumbling about. “Guys.”_

_“You’re back,” Parker chirped._

_“Yeah. You finished?”_

_“Yup. About a minute ago.”_

_“Okay, guys. Start to head out. Don’t everybody go at once,” Nate said, as if they hadn’t done this a million times before._

_Eliot made his way to the kitchen and out through the back door. Normally he’d insist on staying to avoid leaving the catering company in a lurch. Not tonight. He felt a little off, like he’d taken one too many punches to the head. It didn’t help that the others were weirdly silent as they made their way, one by one, to the rendezvous point._

_The silence remained as they piled into the van and went back to Nate’s apartment. And as Nate unlocked the front door. And then he paused. Turned to look Eliot in the eye._

_And then the yelling started._

_\---_

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I thought I said I only wanted a play-by-play up to a certain point.”

Eliot hadn’t told them everything, not by a long shot. He’d mostly glossed over what had happened after Nate’s interruption. It was only in his imagination that he remembered the touch, the taste, the smell of sex. “Yeah, well. Tough.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t realize,” Sophie said mournfully. “I normally have an excellent gaydar.”

Eliot raised his eyebrows. “You mean like that one time with the lady cop? Say, did you ever end up calling her -”

Sophie glared at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Actually, he would very much like to know, but only if the answer was yes.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. That’s - yeah, no. We’re not going there,” Nate said. He sighed. “Eliot, I’m serious. Never, ever do that again. What you do on your own time is your own business -”

“Hey, I ain’t suckin’ dick every day of the week or anythin’,” Eliot snapped. “It’s not something I do for leisure, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

“No, no. I just meant, you…” He waved his hand vaguely. “You can do whatever you want on your time off, and I know you do. Whatever you want. Whoever. But, uh, when we’re on the job, I’m responsible for you.”

“I’m a grown man, Nate.”

Nate made a frustrated sound. “I know. I know. But like you just said, this wasn’t something you’d normally do on your own. So, I feel like I’m responsible for putting you into a position where you felt like you had to.”

Eliot shook his head. “I made my own decisions tonight. I don’t regret it. And I definitely don’t blame you. The guy just didn’t do anything to warrant a knock on the head.”

Nate sighed. “How fucked up is it that I wish he had?”

“Pretty damn fucked up.”

“Yeah.” Nate nodded his head, deep in thought. “Yeah. Well. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. We’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow. I’m going to head to bed.” He glanced at Sophie.

“I think I’m going to go home,” she said. “Good night, all.”

“Good night,” Parker, Eliot, and Nate said at the same time. Only Hardison didn’t reply. In fact, he hadn’t said anything since Eliot’s explanation had ended.

“Mind if I hang out for a minute?” Eliot asked Nate as Sophie headed out the door. Nate looked surprised but he shrugged it off. Eliot wasn’t sure which was the bigger surprise: that Eliot wanted to stay or that he was actually asking permission to do so.

“Sure. Lock up when you leave.”

Nate disappeared up the stairs, leaving the others to sit in uncomfortable silence. Eliot’s eyes were trained on Hardison, who was studiously not looking at him. Parker was watching both of them with open curiosity, eyes bouncing back and forth. Waiting for one of them to make a move, break the silence.

Normally, Eliot could outlast any silent treatment. But Hardison and silence didn’t go together. Whatever emotion Hardison felt was immediately on display in his face, mannerisms, and words. This - _this -_ was not normal. And Eliot had already had enough weirdness for one night.

He sat forward. “I get that Nate feels a fucked up responsibility for my actions,” he said. “I get that Sophie’s pride was wounded. And Parker ain’t even mad. But you -” he jabbed a finger at Hardison, who couldn’t help but glance at Eliot in spite of himself. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Hardison looked at Parker and then back at Eliot. “I ain’t got a problem,” he said. His fingers twitched like he was typing on an invisible keyboard. Lying. Eliot knew every single one of his tells.

Eliot snorted. “Sure you don’t.” He sat back. Waited. Shot a warning look at Parker when it looked like she was about to say something. Her mouth snapped shut with a frown.

Hardison glared at him. “I ain’t got a problem,” he said again. 

Eliot didn’t reply.

The silence stretched.

“I don’t!”

Nothing. Eliot’s face remained impassive.

Sophie might be the best at cognitive conditioning, but Eliot knew a thing or two about interrogation. If only he had a glass of water to calmly sip.

“I - it’s just - man!” Hardison muttered something under his breath too quiet for Eliot to catch.

Parker’s eyes, however, lit up. “Oh! It’s the hugging thing.” She nodded sagely at Eliot, as if this was supposed to make any damn sense to him. “The hugging thing.”

“What...what hugging thing? Hardison, what -?”

“Woman, you better not explain that,” Hardison grumbled. He was back to not looking at either of them now, so Parker must be onto something.

“Hardison doesn’t like that you won’t let him hug you,” Parker said, blithely ignoring Hardison glowering at the floor.

Eliot’s face scrunched up in anger and disbelief. “Are - are you fucking kidding me,” he hissed, mindful not to get too loud. “I hugged your ass multiple times, you idiot. The graveyard? The fuckin’ mountain? _Dubai_?!”

“Everybody hugged me in the graveyard, doesn’t count,” Hardison said. “And you were drugged in Dubai _and_ you immediately shoved me off anyway. The mountain, you was just makin’ fun of me ‘cause of Parker’s snub.”

True, true, and very much true plus hilarious to boot. However, now was not the time to laugh about that stupid spontaneous embrace. Because the other thing Eliot remembered was Hardison’s plaintive “At least Eliot hugged me” in the comms right after. At the time he’d figured it was him seeking out some tiny consolation prize. But now something wasn’t adding up. “What do you care if I frickin’ hug you or not?”

“I didn’t, before,” Hardison said. “I mean, I figured it was you being macho-manly Army dude, Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell, men don’t touch each other unless it’s to knock each other out kinda way, you know? Like kinda vaguely homophobic in a ‘hugging is gay and I ain’t gay’ kinda way. You know?”

Eliot squinted at him, dumbfounded. “You think I’m homophobic?”

Hardison threw his hands up in a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know! Maybe a little? But I guess if you’re willing to suck a dude, maybe not?”

“You’re damn right, I ain’t,” Eliot growled. “Damnit, Hardison, when was the last time I hugged Sophie or Nate, huh? Never. Do you see them complaining? No. It’s just not who I am, and they respect it.”

“I do respect you, man,” Hardison said. “You don’t think I do?”

Eliot wanted to snap that no, Hardison didn’t fucking respect him at all. But that wasn’t fair, nor was it true. “To an extent,” he allowed. “But not when it comes to personal space.”

“Being touch-starved is bad for your health, man. It’ll fuck up your mind and then you’ll become all stressed and your heart will start to fail and you’ll be like the Grinch with a teeny tiny shrivelled up heart and -”

“I do just fine in the touch department,” Eliot interrupted before Hardison could derail completely. “It’s just - it’s different with - you know.”

Parker and Hardison exchanged a look, then both stared at Eliot. “With?” Parker prompted.

“People I actually -” _care for_ \- “like.”

“So hold up, hold up. You’re saying you prefer to touch people you don’t know than people you _do_ know and who actually put up with your grumpy ass?” Hardison demanded in that squeaky voice that made Eliot want to slap him. “That what you sayin’?”

“Aw, he likes us!” Parker chirped, reaching over to tousle Eliot’s hair.

Eliot’s mouth compressed. “Yeah, well, if someone I didn’t know did _that_ to me, they’d be dead. So consider it a trade off.”

Hardison raised an eyebrow at Parker. “There may be hope for him yet.”

Parker nodded, all smiles. The kind of smiles usually reserved for large diamonds or when Hardison was being particularly show-offy. The kind of smiles that made Eliot nervous because it could mean anything from Parker was going to jump off the nearest convenient building or she was going to jump on him. Right now, with her focusing all her attention on him, he could only assume it would be the latter.

“Don’t scare him off, baby girl,” Hardison said, catching sight of the looks on each of their faces. “We got time. I had patience for you, we can have patience for him, too.”

Eliot’s brain ground to a halt. “What?” he asked, voice out-squeaking Hardison’s. Embarrassing. He cleared his throat, dropped his voice to an acceptable register, and repeated. “ _What_?”

Hardison grinned at him, all ill feelings from before apparently gone. He stood up, stretched, and headed towards the door, patting Eliot on the knee as he passed by. He had to stoop ridiculously low to reach, and Eliot felt like he should kick him on principle. He didn’t. But damn did he want to. “Nothing,” Hardison said. “Don’t you worry at all. C’mon, mama, let’s go.”

Parker flapped her hand at Hardison. “I’ll meet you at your apartment.”

Hardison left, and now it was just Parker and Eliot. Dangerous territory, the two of them alone together. “You got something else to say?” Eliot asked, but the venom had disappeared from his voice.

“Can you teach me?”

Eliot had been teaching Parker all sorts of things since they started working together: punches, drops, when she was being Weirdo!Parker instead of the regular, tolerable level of strange, baseball signals, why it was bad to eat cereal every meal for a solid week, so on, so forth. Whatever she wanted to learn could be any number of things. “What?”

“How to do a blow job. _Apparently_ you aren’t actually supposed to blow into it. Why is it even called a blow job if -”

“Parker, stop! Jesus. How the hell am I supposed to teach you how to give a blow job?”

Parker shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. When you’re more comfortable.”

“Comfortable with what?” Halfway already knowing, dreading to be proven right.

Parker launched herself at Eliot, enveloping him in a tight embrace. He didn’t fight or push her away. Nor did he return it. He just...was. “You’re pretzels, too,” Parker whispered.

Eliot swallowed. He knew their codeword for “feelings.” “I’m not pretzels,” he murmured into her hair.

“You are,” she said. “Even if it doesn’t end up being the same, you’re pretzels for both of us.”

“So it wasn’t about the hugs? It was about the...the pretzels?”

Parker pulled back slightly but didn’t let go altogether; she shrugged. “Maybe? I’m not really sure. You’d have to ask Hardison.”

Like hell that was gonna happen. But what was a guy supposed to say when a woman tells him she and her boyfriend both have feelings for him. That they want him to...what? He couldn’t even fathom. (He could. But it terrified him to try.) “Okay,” he said instead. “Okay. Go on. He’s gonna be wondering what’s keeping you.”

“Will you teach me?” she persisted, even as she got up off his lap.

“I’m sure you can figure it out on your own.”

Parker didn’t respond to that, just waited. Not moving. She was learning too much too fast from Sophie, and Eliot could feel his resolve weakening. Here was a little known, closely guarded fact: Eliot couldn’t say no to Parker. He could tell her she was crazy, snap at her when she said over-the-top weirdness, argue with her. But he couldn’t tell her no. “I...maybe.”

That was all she needed. She flashed him a grin and was gone, just like that, before Eliot had time to blink. Leaving him alone in Nate’s living room. Suddenly, he found it was entirely too much effort to make his way home. Nate would grumble in the morning when he saw Eliot asleep on the couch.

Well….pretending to be asleep. Eliot had a feeling he had too much to think about to actually get much rest.

As he settled into a reclining position, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to cover his body, Eliot couldn’t help but ignore how much he really wanted some pretzels right about now.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t come up again, but Eliot didn’t forget about it. He tensed when they spoke to him, avoided any unnecessary physical contact, sought out a new, gorgeous woman every night for a week. And they backed off. Mostly. Hardison couldn’t resist the occasional tease, a soft, almost-not-really innuendo ( _well-done, bone-in_ ), but he no longer went out of his way to step into Eliot’s personal bubble. Parker...was still Parker.

And then suddenly things went sideways, and Eliot forgot to be worried about stupid pretzels. Jimmy Ford resurfaced, only to get himself blown up (and Eliot wouldn’t soon forget grabbing and holding Nate as he recovered from the blast wave, the mental shock not yet fully coalesced, praying to an entity he didn’t believe in that Nate hadn’t been deafened by the explosion), then Dubenich and Latimer, and holding that gun on Dubenich’s face and so desperately wanting to squeeze the trigger even though he knew he’d miss because his hand was shaking so badly. To save Nate the trouble. To save Nate’s soul. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it, and it nagged at him that he couldn’t - because he couldn’t save Nate or because he wasn’t the same man he used to be, he wasn’t sure.

Their identities: burned. Their home: burned. Them: going their separate ways, Eliot working some things out of his system while Parker and Hardison went on a world tour - together, apparently. An official couple now. Not that that meant much to Eliot. 

And then meeting back up in Portland and adjusting to the new normal. That goddamn microbrewery that Hardison conned them (him) into turning into a fully functioning restaurant and new front for Leverage, Inc. And boy were the cases weirder here ( _Keep Portland Weird_ ), giant airplanes and aliens and frickin’ Toby coming up out of nowhere, Eliot never having realised this was where he was living now. Even if he hadn’t been right around the corner, Eliot would have flown halfway across the world to get him his restaurant back. He would have gone to the moon if he’d had to.

But now they were in between jobs again, and Eliot was back to Thinking. Mostly about Parker, but also about Hardison. Singing in the van. Cooking for Parker. Her asking him to teach her how to like things, as if it was something that could be learned. But god help him, when she looked so small and sad on that barstool, he did everything in his power to teach her. No, he didn’t ever expect her to feel the same passion for food he felt. But he thought maybe if she understood how much feeling he put into the food he served for them, maybe something would flip in her head, and she would _get_ it.

So he personally prepared and plated the food that would be sent to her on opening night, under the guise that they needed to send the very best out to the renowned “food critic.” And he heard her light up when she tasted the spring rolls and then the tagliolini nero con gamberi. He hoped she felt it then: not her own passion coming to life, but every feeling Eliot had for her and Hardison layered onto each noodle, each flavour, each bite.

Why she had asked him instead of Sophie, he didn’t realise at the time. Maybe he was convenient. Sophie was busy with her theatre and setting up for the con (and he was busy with both restaurants, but when had Parker ever cared about butting into _his_ affairs?), so perhaps it was just because he was there. Eliot had heard her awkward half-conversation with Nate earlier. He figured she was just reaching out to anyone who might be able to provide an answer.

He had no idea it was building up to something half-forgotten, pushed aside, left behind.

\---

Parker returned a couple of days after the end of the kitchen job, apparently having worked out whatever was bothering her. She was back to her weird-normal self; Eliot would never admit it out loud, but he was glad to see it. She called the crew together at the restaurant to tell them about her adventures and to hand out souvenirs she collected for them. Eliot wasn’t certain if they were stolen or bought, and he didn’t want to ask.

They migrated upstairs, Eliot letting the pub staff take over for a night so that he could cook dinner: a fresh-caught salmon that he prepared himself, cheesy mashed potatoes, asparagus (“I _t’s good for you, so you better eat it_ ”), and for dessert a whipped Strawberry Fool. They exclaimed over how good the food was, marvelled at how much better fresh salmon tasted as opposed to frozen, fought over the last spoonful of potatoes. Eliot, for his part, tried not to let it show how happy it made him that they enjoyed his art. He liked that they didn’t thank him for dinner, that they took him for granted. Eliot would always have their backs, they knew, and he would always be there to make sure they ate proper meals.

At one point, Parker caught his eye as she took a bite of her potatoes. She flashed him a big, cheesy (literally) grin, and he gave her a lip twitch in response. Hardison’s arm was draped casually over the back of her chair. Those two, they fit together perfectly, in all their weirdness.

After dinner, Nate helped Eliot clean up and load the dishwasher while the others migrated to the couch. Eliot could feel Nate’s eyes boring into him as they moved in perfect synchronicity around the sink. “What?” he growled, scraping butter and salmon fat into the garbage can.

“Nothing, nothing,” Nate said, his air of nonchalance not fooling Eliot for an instant. “Just thinking about how happy Parker is. She was pretty down for a while. I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

“Yeah, me too.” Eliot tried not to clank the pan too hard as he fit it into the lower rack, but this conversation was making him suspicious.

“You helped a lot, you know. With that,” Nate continued.

“Sure.”

“And I kinda, you know, wanted to make sure you are, too.” Nate paused his movements, focused completely on Eliot.

Eliot refused to stop or look at Nate. “I am what?”

“Happy.”

“‘Course I am.”

Nate reached a hand to Eliot’s shoulder. _That_ made Eliot pause. Nate and he had a pretty much unspoken agreement that they didn’t touch each other, post-father-killing-explosions notwithstanding. “I’m serious, Eliot. Are you happy? With the team, with the pub, with everything?”

Eliot trained his eyes directly on Nate’s deep brown ones. Nate was one of very few people who didn’t blink or wince under such intense scrutiny. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I thought I had made that pretty clear.”

Nate drew his hand back and loaded up the last of the silverware. “Good. I’m glad. I just had to make sure, you know. Things have been changing recently, and I wanted to make sure you were all good.”

“You mean with Parker and Hardison announcing they’re dating?” Eliot asked. Nate made a noncommittal noise. “Yeah, I’m fine with that. They belong together. They’re both completely crazy, but together they make each other a little more sane.”

“Yet you were the one who helped Parker when she was struggling,” Nate mused quietly, almost more to himself than to Eliot.

“I’m a very helpful person.” He’d made a career out of it his entire life. It was just that sometimes the people he’d helped hadn’t been the most upstanding humans.

Nate smiled. “I know that, Eliot. You’ve been nothing but a gift to this team and to me personally.”

This was beginning to sound like a farewell. Eliot gave Nate a sharp look, which Nate returned with a blithe smile. “Just making sure,” Nate repeated. Eliot wasn’t quite willing to believe him, but he didn’t know what else this little tête-à-tête could mean. “You’d tell me if you were unhappy or felt pushed aside or anything?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I think on our next job you should be the one who gets cut up and whacked in the ribs, while _I_ eat a nice dinner with Sophie and tell you to back down like you’re a trained guard dog,” Eliot said.

Nate laughed. “Noted.”

“If I’m unhappy, I’ll tell you. Loudly and vociferously.”

“Noted again.”

Eliot shut the dishwasher and turned it on. He followed Nate out of the kitchen and plopped down on the couch next to Sophie. Nate, however, did not sit down. He stood watching them with a soft smile on his face. The others didn’t turn to look at him, too engrossed in the violent video game battle between Parker and Hardison, but Eliot was sure Sophie saw.

“Hah, take that!” Parker cried as her avatar performed a finishing blow on Hardison’s.

“Well, I think I’m going to head out,” Nate announced. Sophie stood up, gathering her things and saying her own farewells. There was a chorus of “goodbye”s and “see you tomorrow”s, and then Eliot was alone with Parker and Hardison for the first time in a long while.

Eliot was on the verge of making his own exit when Parker shifted closer to him, the space between them having opened up with Sophie’s departure. Hardison reached around her to waggle a third controller at him. “C’mon, man, Super Smash Bros, Kirby versus Kirby versus Kirby, we’ll see who the real champion is.”

Eliot smirked at him. “You know I can just kick your ass in real life, right?”

“Yeah, but in the virtual world? I will run circles around you. I’m gonna hit you so hard you won’t know your ass from a hole in the ground. I’m gonna -”

“I don’t want to play video games,” Parker announced. She glanced between them out of the corner of her eyes, first Hardison, then Eliot. “I want to learn a lesson.” This directed at Eliot.

Eliot sat forward, always amenable to teaching Parker new moves. “Alright,” he said, rolling the kinks out of his neck. “I’ll go get the practice mat, you stretch out and -”

“Not a fighting lesson,” Parker amended.

“What, then? Cooking?” Eliot asked, puzzled. Please don’t let it be more feelings stuff, or worse yet….

“I want to learn how to give a blowjob.”

That.

“Uh, come again?” Hardison squeaked. “Not that I’m not game, but, uh, I don’t think you can just -”

“Eliot promised to teach me back in Boston,” Parker told him.

“Now wait a minute, I never promised nothin’,” Eliot growled. “I said _maybe_ I would teach you. Maybe.”

“And, uh, how exactly is he going to teach you?” Hardison asked.

Parker shrugged. “However he’s comfortable with. But I’ve always been a kinesthetic learner.”

“Yeah, you are, baby,” Hardison said with a grin. He waggled his eyebrows at Eliot. “I think I’m going to like this lesson way more than learning how to fall properly.”

“I haven’t said yes yet,” Eliot snapped.

Hardison blinked. “I’m sorry, man,” and god if that didn’t immediately temper Eliot’s nerves; Hardison rarely apologized sincerely, at least not to Eliot. “I thought you were ready now, I didn’t…” He held up his hands in surrender. “It’s cool, man. We aren’t going to pressure you.”

“But -” Parker started.

“No pressure,” Hardison said again. “Patience, remember. No one needs to feel uncomfortable or conned.”

Eliot ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Parker, it ain’t hard.” (Hardison opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it.) “You get him all...you know, then you put your mouth on his dick and move it up and down. It’s just like fucking except he’s in your mouth instead.”

Parker and Hardison exchanged a look. “Uh, well, you see…” Hardison started.

“I’m not very good at that, either,” Parker said. “We do it, but I don’t really like it very much. It’s so...” She made a face. “Squishy.”

“You don’t… What _do_ you do together?” Eliot asked before he could think better of it.

“You know, kinda like…” Hardison made a gesture that Eliot could only vaguely interpret as a hand rubbing against something.

“And Hardison goes down on me,” Parker added

“Hell yeah I do.”

“It feels okay.”

“It’s - it _what_?” Hardison demanded. Even though Eliot’s head was about to explode, he couldn’t help but smirk at Hardison’s dismay. “Girl, what’s with this ‘okay’ business? I don’t hear you complaining when I’m doing it! You’re all ‘yeah Hardison that’s right uhn right there yeah baby that’s so good.’”

Eliot glanced at Parker, who shrugged. “He didn’t like it when I was quiet, so I watched some videos.”

“You mean pornos?” Eliot asked.

“Yeah.”

“And they could teach you how to fake an orgasm but they couldn’t teach you how to give a blowjob?”

Parker shook her head. “They just seemed to know how to do it. When I try, I always get it wrong. You’re not supposed to blow, you’re not supposed to suck. I just don’t get it.”

Eliot sighed. Wavering. “Why not ask Sophie? Isn’t this the kind of thing women talk about?”

“I trust you,” Parker said. Fuck, that did things to Eliot that he would never admit under torture. “Alec and I both - we trust you with everything.”

“Yeah, man,” Hardison added, his indignation now replaced by something low and soft. “We’re yours in whatever way you’ll take us. And you’re ours in whatever way you’ll let us have you. Hitter, teammate, cook, protector, best friend. Love. Doesn’t matter. You’re ours.” He held his hand out in front of Parker, extended towards Eliot. Parker added hers as well.

Eliot looked at their hands. Tempted. He thought about Nate’s question earlier. Was he happy? Yes. He hadn’t been lying or exaggerating about that.

Could he be happier?

Could he do this?

He wasn’t sure. And he didn’t want to accidentally hurt them by trying to find out. 

There had been moments in Eliot’s life when he wasn’t sure he could do what he was being asked. Leaving Aimee behind. Making his first confirmed kill. Completing his first hit for money. Setting that aside to create something instead of destroy someone. Using his talents for good instead of bad. He had teetered on the edge, unsure. And then he had done it and found that he could.

Hardison and Parker had not retracted their hands. They still hung there, waiting for a definitive yes or no. Hesitantly, surreally, Eliot lifted his hand to meet theirs. Grabbed hold.

Parker’s face lit up, and that alone was worth giving this a shot. He could always pull back. He didn’t think they would kick him off the team if it didn’t work out. Parker slipped her hand out of theirs, leaving Eliot’s hand resting in Hardison’s for just a moment longer before Eliot, too, lowered his hand. Hardison, for his part, looked like the cat who ate the canary. Eliot’s eyes narrowed. He mentally vowed that by the end of the lesson, that smug look would be gone completely. 

“Alright, so,” Eliot started, turning to Parker and getting to the task at hand. Or, er, mouth, as it were. “You want to learn about blowjobs? I’ll teach you. And you know I don’t do anything half-assed. You’re going to learn it right.”

Parker snapped him a salute. “Got it.”

“Don’t do that. Right. Any questions before we begin?”

“Yes. Why do people do it?”

“What, oral sex?” Eliot asked.

“Yeah.”

He shrugged. “It feels good. Some people do it because they don’t want to get pregnant. Sometimes two guys will do it instead of anal sex. Some people just use it as foreplay before penetrative sex. There’s loads of different reasons, Parker. But most of them boil down to it feels good and is sexy as hell. Plus you can be a little creative and switch things up a bit instead of just in-out-in-out. Like, wear a sexy outfit or something. You don’t gotta be naked for your mouth to be on his dick, right?”

“Huh,” Parker said, like it had genuinely never occurred to her before. It probably hadn’t.

Eliot sat forward on the couch, body angled towards them but not quite looking directly at either one. He leaned his elbows on his knees, hands emphasizing his points as needed. “Most normal people, it’d be like sexy lingerie or something. This guy, you throw on one of those Star Trek miniskirt uniforms, and he’ll probably come before you even touch him.”

Hardison squawked his affront. Parker considered the possibility. “I don’t want him to do that,” she said while Hardison muttered something about the miniskirt uniform being made for guys, too, and if Eliot wasn’t careful....

“Right,” Eliot told Parker, ignoring Hardison. “You want to get him turned on but not so much he shoots his shot right out the gate.”

Parker nodded. “Got it.” She twisted suddenly, swinging a leg over Hardison’s lap so that she was straddling him. Hardison looked torn between excitement and trepidation as he glanced over at Eliot.

Eliot swallowed. Hard. “Parker…”

“Turn him on, I know how to do that. Hey, he’s already hard.” She smiled as she rolled her hips.

Something hot and numbing seared through Eliot’s body. His brain didn’t quite feel connected to his mouth as he said, “Can’t I just tell you what to do and then…” He jerked his thumb towards the door.

Parker paused her movements to throw a pout Eliot’s way. She pointed a finger at herself. “Kinesthetic,” she reminded him.

Hardison shrugged at Eliot. “Up to you, man. I got no problem with you stickin’ around.”

“If I stay and teach Parker how to suck you off, that’s gonna require me seeing your dick, man,” Eliot countered.

Hardison grinned. “Oh, I ain’t got nothin’ to hide there.” He held out his hand for their usual special high five. “Don’t leave me hangin’.”

Unimpressed, Eliot slapped his hand twice and ended with a halfhearted fist bump. “Good,” Parker said. “That’s settled.”

Eliot wanted to protest that absolutely nothing was settled, but simply rolled his eyes instead. “Fine. Just peachy. This is gonna be a grand old time.” He shifted down to kneel on the floor, just to the side of Hardison’s spread legs. He’d be able to guide Parker best from there. “Okay, Parker, when you think he’s ready, make your way down here. Don’t just jump off him, neither. You wanna take your time. Kiss your way down his chest or something.” His cheeks heated up. He sounded like he was writing a bad porno.

Parker ducked her head to press a needy kiss to Hardison’s mouth. Breaking away, she turned towards Eliot. “You didn’t take your time with Stevenson.”

Eliot ran a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to make love to Stevenson. There’s a difference.”

“There is?”

“Yeah, I - uh, fucking, sex, making love… they’re all the same act, but it feels different,” he tapped his heart, “in here.”

“Oh.” Something clicked in her head. “ _Oh_!” She smacked Hardison’s shoulder, hard enough that Eliot winced along with Hardison. “I get it now.”

“Glad to help,” Eliot mumbled. What she got, he didn’t know. Hardison was too busy smiling up at Parker like she was a gift from god to help enlighten him.

Parker began sliding her body down Hardison’s, taking Eliot’s advice by placing little kisses down his neck. She unbuttoned his shirt as she went, continuing to pepper his chest with her lips and tongue. By the time she reached his waistband, Hardison was panting and clearly turned on. She pulled back enough to strip off her shirt, revealing a sturdy, practical black sports bra. No lacy, frivolous scrap of silk here. Parker wasn’t that type of woman. Yet she made practical look sexy. Not that it lasted long. Within seconds, it had followed the shirt up and over her head, tossed off to the side, forgotten.

Eliot licked his lips. He’d seen Parker’s breasts before; she was hardly shy about her body. But never in this context. Her nipples were hardening in the cool apartment air, and a vision of him taking one nipple into his mouth while he toyed with the other flashed lightning-quick through Eliot’s mind. He dragged his eyes away, looking up at Hardison to see if he had noticed.

He had. Hardison’s eyes were on Eliot instead of Parker. He didn’t look ready to throw punches, though; he looked raw and eager, as if he knew what Eliot had imagined and he wanted it just as much as Eliot did.

Parker’s hands went to her pants, but here she hesitated. Looked at Eliot. “I can leave my leggings on?” she asked, as if this was a revelation she hadn’t realised before Eliot had said she didn’t need to be naked to give a blowjob.

“Sure,” Eliot said, his voice coming out softer, quieter, than any of them would have expected, himself included. “Sure you can, sweetheart.”

Parker smiled in wonderment. “I like that,” she admitted. She looked up at Hardison. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” Hardison assured her. “You look sexy as hell no matter what you wear or don’t wear.”

“Even when she’s in twenty layers of winter gear, climbing a mountain?” Eliot couldn’t help but ask, his voice back to its usual gruff tone, but with amusement shining through.

“Especially then,” Hardison said. “Warmth never looked sexier than on that frickin’ mountain.”

“You want your pants off, babe?” Parker asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Hardison breathed, going for his pants button. Parker swatted his hands away.

“I’m doing this,” she said. She opened his button and fly. Hardison lifted his hips up so that she could pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles. And there he was, in all his glory.

Damn, but Hardison had been right: he had no reason to hide or be embarrassed. Dude had an impressive dick. Eliot kind of wanted to see if he would be able to deep-throat it, but that was not the point of what was happening tonight.

Hardison caught Eliot looking and gave him a shit-eating grin. He grabbed his cock and gave it a couple of lazy pumps, asking, “You like what you see, baby?”

Parker was still in the process of divesting Hardison of his shoes, socks, pants, and boxers (it looked like she was trying to do all of them at once), but she paused to swat at his hands again. “You’re going to ruin the lesson.”

“Ah! Woman, watch what you’re smacking!” Hardison covered his penis with both hands, shielding it from Parker’s quick taps. Eliot smothered a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, Parker,” Eliot said. “He ain’t gonna come just from a coupla jerks.”

“Huh. Are you sure?” She managed to get Hardison’s clothes off at last. “First time I ever touched him, he-”

“Don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence,” Hardison interjected quickly. 

Eliot couldn’t suppress the laughter anymore, busting up so hard he doubled over. Suddenly the ridiculousness of the entire situation hit him - slammed into him, really - and he was laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. He wheezed for a couple of moments, tears leaking from his eyes, before finally regaining control.

When he looked up, he expected to see Hardison pouting and Parker looking puzzled. What he was not expecting was both of them to be looking at him with expressions that positively glowed with warmth and...something. Something that made his stomach lurch and his heart speed up.

“I want to kiss you,” Parker said. Simple and pure.

Eliot looked up at Hardison, who nodded. “I would love to see that,” he said.

Eliot turned back to Parker. “Okay,” he said softly.

Parker surged forward, pressing their lips together. Her right hand slipped to the back of his head, holding him gently into the kiss. It was simple and soft, their lips moving against each other but not opening further. For the first time since he was a teenager, Eliot didn’t know what to do with his hands. After a moment of clenching and unclenching, he let them rest, at last, on the curves of Parker’s hips, right where fabric met bare skin. His eyes drifted closed as he leaned into her lips, soaked her in.

She tasted, felt, just like she acted: sweet and precious and not entirely grounded in reality. Eliot could have lost himself in her lips alone, never mind the rest of her, but the couch creaked beside them as Hardison shifted, and Eliot suddenly remembered why they were there. He pulled back. The hand holding him in place let him go.

Eliot’s eyes flickered to Hardison. His hand was back on his cock and his eyes were completely glazed over with lust. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said, voice strained. “That was fucking hot.”

Eliot cleared his throat. “You wanna play with yourself all day, or do you want Parker to blow you?” he grumbled. “‘Cause she can’t do that if she’s busy playing tonsil hockey with me.”

Hardison gave himself one last squeeze before letting go and gesturing to his cock. “By all means.” He spread his arms out, one along the back of the couch, the other on the armrest. Eliot suddenly remembered his earlier vow about wiping that smug shit off Hardison’s face.

He couldn’t do it directly, but by all means he could do so by teaching Parker to give the best damn blowjob Hardison’d ever even dreamed of. “Okay, Parker. You’re gonna put yourself between his legs. Yeah, like that. Good. Take him in hand.” She did, glancing at Eliot. “Okay, yeah. Now, you don’t gotta go straight into deep-throating him. You could hurt yourself trying, and it’s only sexy if you’re not gonna gag and choke. So you wanna, like, take your time and, uh, you know…”

Parker waited, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“I don’t know, experiment,” Eliot said, suppressing a modicum of impatience. “Use your tongue and your lips. Move up and down his cock. Don’t put him all the way in your mouth at first, just sort of….uh, tease.”

Parker leaned forward, hesitant. She paused, lips parted, a fraction of an inch from the head of Hardison’s cock. She breathed out, air ghosting across the tip. Hardison’s eyes slipped shut, a needy moan rising out of his throat. Eliot couldn’t help the tiny, proud smile; Parker was a natural tease.

She licked her lips, tongue flicking just a little against Hardison’s cock. She winced. Eliot winced, too, in sympathy; it wasn’t his favourite taste, either. Granted, it had been a long-ass time since he’d had a guy bareback in his mouth, but he could remember that taste. It was distinctive.

“You don’t gotta like it,” Eliot reassured her. It was weird how this was beginning to not feel weird at all. Like he belonged here, walking Parker through the details of oral sex. “You can buy flavoured condoms or lube. Or I know some foods that make a guy’s junk taste better.”

Parker and Hardison both stared at him. “You can do that?” Parker demanded. “You can make his penis taste good by _cooking_?”

“You’re gonna hack my _semen_?!” Hardison asked.

“It’s not hacking, you idiot. And it’s not exactly cooking, Parker. Certain fruits and vegetables can make semen taste less salty. Also less red meat and dairy,” Eliot explained.

Parker smacked Eliot’s arm. “Do that. Make his semen taste better.”

Eliot gave her a look of disbelief. “I’m not - I don’t control what the guy eats.”

“Hey, hello, I’m right here,” Hardison reminded them. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m cutting out red meat just to make my semen taste ‘better.’”

Eliot shrugged. “Your call. But don’t come crying to me when Parker never gives you another blowjob.”

“This is just a con to get me to eat more vegetables, isn’t it?” Hardison pouted. It didn’t last long, however, as Parker chose that moment to bring her tongue to the base of Hardison’s cock and give it a long, slow lick all the way up to the tip. “Oh _fuck_.”

Eliot nodded his approval. “There ya go, Parker.” He was willing to bet large sums of money that Hardison was the kind who never shut up in bed. “If he ain’t out of his mind babblin’, something ain’t right. Move your tongue up and down - yeah, like that. Now swirl it around the tip. Good.”

Parker began to really go to town on Hardison, tongue and lips moving up and down, exploring. Hardison moaned his encouragement, especially when she hit a sensitive spot. “Oh, god, that is so good, baby,” he panted. “Shit, right there _yes_ right th- _ah_.”

Hardison reached out to Parker, one hand carding briefly through her hair before landing on her shoulder. Her arms bracketed his thighs, holding him close, her body pressed into the space between his legs. A perfect fit...

“You can go a little lower, if you want,” Eliot told Parker. “Suck on his balls. Some girls don’t like that ‘cause of all the hair. If a guy’s a real gentleman, he’ll keep himself trimmed up for you.”

“Well, I wasn’t _planning_ on having my genitals near anyone’s _mouth_ tonight,” Hardison groused. “I didn’t have a chance to manscape. _Nyyynnnghhhh._ ” He let out an incredibly undignified groan as Parker chose to give it a shot and bring one of his testicles into her mouth.

“Careful with the teeth, Parker,” Eliot warned. “Those aren’t things that enjoy a little nip.”

Parker shot him a thumbs up. 

Eliot let her explore a little, watching Hardison’s reactions with amusement. His fingers danced along the couch cushions and Parker’s shoulder like they weren’t sure what to do without a keyboard under them. His eyes were trained on Parker’s face, but occasionally he shot a glance over at Eliot.

Parker pulled back and wiped her chin. “I keep getting all drooly.”

Eliot huffed a slight laugh. “Yeah, it ain’t clean fun. It gets a little sloppy.” He reached out before he could stop himself, wiping a speck of saliva from the corner of her mouth. She smiled.

“Okay, am I ready to blow him yet?”

Eliot nodded. “I think you are.” He closed his eyes, took a steadying breath. “I am only going to say this once and you will never, ever hear it again, but that is one monster cock.” Hardison wisely kept quiet, but he was definitely grinning insufferably. “It’s gonna take you practice before you’ll be able to deep-throat it. So don’t take more than you can. Whatever you can’t fit in your mouth, you can work with your hand.”

Parker nodded. “Got it.”

She levered herself up slightly to get a better angle, using one hand to hold Hardison steady as she brought him into her mouth. Eliot sat forward on his heels, making sure to have a decent vantage point where he could see what was happening.

“That’s good,” Eliot breathed, voice barely audible over Hardison’s appreciative blather. “You’re doing great. Now, start to move your head up and down - yeah. Not too fast, just a little bit to start off. And you can move your tongue a bit to give him more stimulation.”

“Oo ai uhn?” Parker asked around Hardison’s cock. “Ow oo ah oo ah?”

“Wh - well, you, like - uh.” He didn’t know how to explain it. You just...moved your tongue. He scratched his head. “Can I, uh, see your hand for a second, Parker?”

She pulled off Hardison, who whined a protest, and offered Eliot the nearest hand. He took it, held her first three fingers together and gently curled her pinky and thumb out of the way. It wasn’t quite the same thickness as Hardison’s cock, but it would do for a demonstration. He moved her fingers to his mouth and wrapped his lips around them.

Parker’s eyes went wide, and beside them Hardison sounded like he was about to choke, but Eliot ignored them. He focused on moving his mouth up and down Parker’s fingers, flattening and curling his tongue as best as he could. On the upstroke, when her fingers were most of the way out of his mouth, he swirled his tongue around the tip of her middle finger before plunging back down again. He pumped a couple of times up and down her fingers, focusing on his tonguework as much as possible. Then he let them slip from his mouth.

“Get it?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I think so,” Parker said, turning back to Hardison. She and Eliot were surprised to find Hardison’s hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Holy shit, I nearly came,” Hardison hissed, giving himself one last squeeze. “That was so fucking hot, I nearly - shit, man. Give a dude some warning next time.”

“You good?” Eliot asked, definitely _not_ smirking. Nope, not him.

“Yeah, I… whew. Give me a second.” Hardison closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “Okay. Yeah, I’m good. Let’s do this.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Take it easy on him,” he told Parker. “I think he’s about to bust his nut.”

Parker wrinkled her nose. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“Oh, it’s very fun,” Eliot assured her. “Just not very conducive to our lesson.”

Parker brought her lips back to Hardison’s cock. Eliot leaned forward and placed a gentle, guiding hand on the back of her head. Just enough to let her know he was still there. She hummed appreciatively, eyes closing as she got into the rhythm of the motion. Eliot could see her cheeks moving as she worked her tongue - clumsy but effective.

“Look up at him,” Eliot whispered, closer to her ear than he had intended to get. When had he gotten so close? “Don’t pull off, just look up at him through your lashes. Look at how much he wants you, how you’re driving him crazy. He’s desperately trying to hold himself still, do you feel that? How badly he wants to fuck your mouth? It’s because your mouth is so hot, and he wants you so badly.” He was babbling almost to rival Hardison, now, but he thought he might explode or scream if he didn’t keep talking.

“He’s fucking right, baby,” Hardison hissed. “That feels so good, shit. Fuck, I -” His hips jerked sharply, catching Parker off guard. She choked slightly, then recovered.

“That happens sometimes. Just ride it out, unless he actually hurt you,” Eliot said. Parker shook her head. 

“Here.” Eliot slipped behind her, chest pressed up to her back. He wrapped his right arm around her, taking her hand in his and guiding it to Hardison’s balls. “You can touch these, play with them. If he’s into a little pain -” Hardison squeaked; no pain for him, thank you - “you can flick ‘em or give ‘em a little pinch. Doesn’t sound like Hardison’s into that, though. But if you go just a little further…” He guided her hand behind Hardison’s balls to his perineum. “This is really sensitive. You can really drive him crazy here. Just a slight touch, feel that? He really liked that.”

It was true. He could feel Hardison’s every reaction. Dude was a live wire, ready to zap at the slightest nudge.

“If you guys get really adventurous,” Eliot continued, “and agree to it beforehand, you can even try putting your finger up his ass and stimulating his prostate. Not everyone’s into that, but those that are, it’s like magic.”

“You...into that?” Hardison asked breathlessly.

Eliot glanced up at him. “Would you like to know?” he growled.

Ignoring their banter, Parker grabbed Eliot’s free hand, the hand not currently guiding hers along Hardison’s perineum, and brought it to her exposed breast. Eliot’s brain short-circuited, leaving him momentarily speechless. His hand began moving of its own accord, fingers seeking her hard nipple. Parker moaned appreciatively, causing Hardison to hiss and clench. Eliot’s mind flitted briefly to the idea of teaching Parker how to edge him, keep him on the tip of orgasm until he was out of his mind with need, but he pushed that aside. Maybe next time.

( _Next_ time…)

Instead, he leaned his chin on Parker’s shoulder and buried his face in her neck. Her hair tickled his face, smelling like...nothing. Parker, like him, used scentless shampoo to avoid people recognizing them by smell. Eliot pressed a kiss to her neck, just below her ear.

“I think he’s gonna come,” Eliot whispered.

“I’m real close, baby,” Hardison panted. “Gonna come...soon…”

“You got a choice now, Parker,” Eliot said. “You can let him come in your mouth and swallow it or spit it out. Or you can pull off and let him come in your hand.”

Parker pulled off quickly enough she nearly brained Eliot. Her hand, still tangled with Eliot’s as they touched Hardison’s balls, came up to his cock instead. Together they stroked Hardison’s cock, Eliot’s hand wrapped around Parker’s - though he was pretty sure she could do this part on her own. He didn’t want to let go, sit back.

Hardison released whatever willpower had kept him in check until now, hips pumping frantically against Parker’s rhythm. The smug look was gone completely, replaced by one of intense desire. He came fast and hard, semen spilling out over Parker’s and Eliot’s hands as they worked him through his orgasm.

Eliot pulled his hand away first, making a face at the mess. He should have thought ahead and grabbed a rag or some tissues. He didn’t feel like standing up - walking would be uncomfortable at best with the state of his cock right now - so he settled for pulling his outer shirt off and using it to wipe his and Parker’s hands clean. He gestured at her to take the shirt and wipe Hardison off, too. “Gently,” he said.

She did so, then surveyed the shirt. She wrinkled her nose. “Is it ruined?”

“Nah. I can clean it when I get home.” He sat back, giving them some room.

Hardison was starting to come back to himself now, albeit a little sleepy. “That was a really, really good lesson, E,” he said, grinning. So much for the smug look being gone. “We’ll definitely have to do that again some time.”

“I think Parker’s got the idea now,” Eliot retorted.

Parker looked at Hardison, a flash of disappointment. Hardison gave her a meaningful look in return. More silent conversation, then Parker slumped. “Fine.”

“Are you two done talking ‘bout me behind my back?” Eliot asked.

“Nope,” Parker said at the same time Hardison said, “Wasn’t behind your back.”

Eliot grunted. It - this - should have been awkward. Should have made him itchy and tense, on-edge. Should have.

Parker shifted, making a face. “I’m squishy again.” She tried a few different sitting positions, clearly uncomfortable in each one.

“Need help?” Eliot asked, the offer out of his mouth before he had time to consider any alternate implications than simply ‘help get comfortable.’

Parker considered him intently. “What kind of help?”

Eliot held up his hands in protest, ignoring Hardison trying - failing - to hide a smirk behind his hand. “I just meant...Fuck, I don’t know. You just looked damn uncomfortable. I don’t -” ( _I don’t like seeing you like that._ )

Parker softened. She hooked her thumbs into her leggings and stripped them - and her underwear - off, leaving her completely naked. Eliot’s traitorous eyes zeroed straight in on her dark blonde curls, wet and slick. He had never before wondered what Parker would look like nude ( _well, once, maybe twice_ ), but now he would never be able to unsee her. Same with Hardison. The images of them in all their glory - even with Hardison still in his unbuttoned shirt, spread out enough that little was left to the imagination - would not soon leave Eliot’s dreams.

“That’s better,” Parker said with a sigh of relief. “Underwear makes it worse. Feels like someone dumped oil down my pants.”

Later, Eliot would have to blame the lack of blood in his brain for the utter stupidity of his next question: “What kind of oil?”

There was the smallest of pauses before Eliot heard what had just come out of his mouth at the same time that Hardison absolutely lost his shit. He cracked up, oblivious to Eliot glaring daggers at his head. “Shut up, Hardison, it’s a perfectly legitimate question.” (It wasn’t.)

Parker, however, seemed to take it seriously. She thought about it for several seconds, all curled up into herself, heedless of her nudity. Hardison finally realized he was the only one laughing and subsided, looking curiously at Parker. “Olive oil,” she decided at last. “Sometimes it’s like vegetable oil, sometimes it’s like motor oil. But today it’s olive oil.”

“Oh. Okay.” Eliot really didn’t know what to do with that.

“Gonna go take a shower?” Hardison asked. Parker rested her chin on her knees and shook her head. Hardison perked up. “Want me to go down on you?”

Another little head shake. Hardison looked baffled enough by this for Eliot to suppose those were the most common solutions to Parker’s problem. Hardison didn’t ask any more questions, and Eliot followed his lead. When it came to Parker, he had more experience and patience. The moment stretched out, Eliot fighting back a twitchiness that urged him to demand answers. He could wait.

(Or he could leave, but that option didn’t even have time to fully take root in Eliot’s mind before he squashed it down.)

At last, Parker uncurled one arm from around her legs and pointed at Eliot. He blinked, uncertain what she meant, then looked at Hardison for clarification.

Hardison was grinning. “You want Eliot to go down on you?”

“Cereal,” Parker said.

“Ce- cereal?” Eliot asked, pushing aside Parker’s request for a moment. He wasn’t ready to consider _that_ option yet.

“It’s our code,” Hardison explained, glancing at Eliot but keeping his attention mostly on Parker. “For what we’re comfortable with. We tried a green-yellow-red code but Parker got a little hung up on all the good things that are red.”

“Strawberries, rubies, red velvet cake but only the way Eliot does it because you make it the real way not the fake way and now that I’ve learned there’s a difference I can totally tell and it’s just not as-”

“I get the picture,” Eliot interrupted before she could go off on a fifteen minute tangent about red food dye. “So cereal is good?”

“Yup, and jazz is bad,” Hardison said.

“So what’s yellow?”

“Garfield,” Parker said. With no elaboration.

“Garfield?” Nonplussed.

“Yes.”

“Like...as in the cat or the president?” And which option would make it less weird?

“The cat.” Parker’s eyes narrowed. “He seems like a fat, lovable cat on the surface, but I’m not so sure he’s all that innocent. I think he killed Jon in his sleep.”

“And….that’s the word you chose for ‘proceed with caution?’” Eliot asked. Just to make sure.

“We had a lot of difficulty coming up for a word for that one,” Hardison said. “Just be glad I talked her out of using ‘Nate.’”

“What?” Parker demanded. “You said it had to be a word that wouldn’t come up naturally in bed, and unless you’re not telling me something, I think ‘Nate’ fits that criteria.”

“Okay, okay.” Eliot held up a hand to forestall any further arguments. “There’s just one tiny problem with your plan, Parker. I didn’t agree to it. I - I did what you asked me to, I taught you how to give a blowjob. I shouldn’t have asked if you want help; I didn’t mean to make you think I was gonna stick around and - and eat you out.”

“Jazz?” Parker asked quietly.

He wanted to say yes. He should say yes and walk out and go find something to do in Sudan or Syria or something. Take a couple weeks off to sort his head out and beat the shit out of some bad guys. But his tongue wouldn’t form the word. Instead, he opened his mouth and “Garfield” came tumbling out, like it wasn’t the stupidest sex safeword he’d ever heard in his life.

Parker unfolded a little, encouraged. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”

Eliot shook his head. “No.”

He honestly didn’t know what he needed, what would allow him to take that next step. Maybe if he excused himself into the bathroom and took care of his erection so he could think clearer. But that would mean making Parker wait, and he wasn’t sure he could do that.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he only saw the barest flicker of movement to his side before feeling Hardison’s large, warm hand land on the back of his head, mirroring the way Eliot had cradled Parker’s head earlier. Eliot tensed before relaxing into his hand. Hardison moved up and down a little, gentle strokes that went straight to Eliot’s gut. “It’s okay, E,” Hardison murmured. What was okay, he wasn’t clear on. Maybe all of it. “It’s okay.”

Parker reached forward and took Eliot’s hand. “I - I’m being a little selfish,” she admitted. “I want to make sure of something.”

“Parker, honey…” There was something pained and tired in Hardison’s voice. “You’re not -”

“I want to make sure I’m not broken,” Parker said, so plain and simple, like it wasn’t an earth-shattering pronouncement.

“You’re _not_ ,” Hardison insisted.

“What makes you think you are?” Eliot asked, eyes opening and zeroing in on her.

“I never come when Alec goes down on me,” Parker said. “I want to know if he’s just bad at it or if there’s something wrong with me.”

Eliot shook his head, keeping the movements small so as not to dislodge Hardison’s hand. “You ain’t broken, Parker. If you don’t come when he goes down on your or when you have sex or when you masturbate or if you only come some of the time or - whatever. You aren’t broken.”

“That’s what Alec says, too, but I think he’s biased,” Parker said. “I think you’d tell me the truth, Eliot.”

“I will tell you the truth as long as it won’t get you hurt or killed. Always. So do you believe us?” Eliot asked.

Parker nodded after a moment of thinking it over. “Yes. But I still want to know.”

Eliot nodded back. “Okay. Fuck. Okay. Get up on the couch and lie down.”

Parker unfolded her graceful body, and Eliot couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked. She arranged herself lengthwise on the couch, head on Hardison’s lap, legs spread. Eliot had a brief thought about Nate and Sophie sitting on the couch tomorrow and what they would say if they knew what had happened there the night before. He bit back a chuckle.

Hardison pulled his hand away from Eliot’s head (and Eliot did not feel a pang of loss at that, certainly) and sat back so that Parker had more room to be comfortable.

Eliot couldn’t resist a little dig. “Before you, Parker, this idiot probably only had his right fist to practice his technique on. It’s not your fault he doesn’t know how to make it good for a woman. I’m gonna show him how it’s done right.” He clucked his tongue. “I’ll have y’all oral sex experts by the end of the night.”

Hardison flipped him off, which just made Eliot smirk. He got up on his knees, paused, then after a moment of deliberation, pulled his undershirt up over his head and tossed it to the side. He knew his teammates had seen him shirtless before, knew that the myriad of scars could be off-putting at first, knew it was one more barrier removed that he had meant to keep up between him and them. Knew all these things and did it anyway.

Eliot got up on the couch, positioned right between Parker’s legs. He ran his hands up her legs, enjoying the satiny smoothness. “You let me know right away if something isn’t good,” he told her. “You say ‘jazz’ and I stop. You say ‘Garfield’ and I back off. Okay?”

Parker nodded. “Cereal.”

Eliot used his hands to help elevate Parker’s rear a little, then ducked his head down. She really was sopping wet. Parker kept herself trimmed but not shaved, hair a bit longer than most of the women Eliot took to bed. He kissed the inside of her thigh, teeth scraping the skin just a little. Parker breathed out, something that had been taut in her stomach loosening now. Eliot repeated the movement, satisfied to hear a little hum of approval this time.

“That feel good, baby?” Hardison asked.

Eliot sneaked a glance up her body to see her nod, eyes closed. Hardison was petting her hair with one hand while the other skimmed patterns on her chest. She looked the absolute picture of decadence. Eliot shook his hair out of his face and returned his attention to other matters.

He didn’t want to keep her on edge for too long, not knowing how she would react to teasing. Eliot got the feeling Parker had absolute authority when it came to sexual matters between her and Hardison. Not because she was domineering or needed control, but because her experience was limited, possibly complicated (possibly nonexistent), and because her tolerance for certain things sex required could swing wildly from one situation, moment, person to the next.

With this in mind, Eliot shifted so that one broad hand supported her buttocks while the other came up to spread her lips, giving him better access. He dipped his tongue into her folds, tasting. She tasted dark and heady with a sweetness buried just underneath. She tasted good. He flattened out his tongue and licked her from her pussy to the tip of her clit. This, he wrapped his lips around and swirled his tongue around the tip, feeling what made her loose versus what made her tense. When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, her thighs tried to snap shut, whacking him on both sides of his head. 

He backed off, sliding down to safer areas. “Sorry,” he murmured into her.

“That was a lot,” she said. One hand reached down to pet Eliot’s hair - in reassurance or apology, he wasn’t sure. But she didn’t pull away entirely, so he asked, “Cereal?”

“Cereal.”

He pressed his tongue inside her, lapping up her juices. She certainly had a lot of them; no wonder sex made her feel squishy. He would have to remind her to drink some water after this. His tongue pushed in and out, a shallow fucking motion that wouldn’t even come close to bringing her off, but would keep her engaged.

Not that he could tell how engaged she was, exactly - she wasn’t saying much. Her hand continued to pet his hair, but he couldn’t hear anything from her except her breathing, which was not at its normal steadiness. He took that for a good sign, but Hardison was right - it was hard to know what she was thinking without any verbal feedback, or at least being able to see her face.

Fortunately, Hardison understood. “Eliot, my man, whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” he said. “She is completely blissed out. Damn, you should see what I’m seein’. Y’all’re gonna get me goin’ again.”

Eliot pushed deeper, adding a little flick of the tongue now. And began changing it up. Every few strokes, he would add a little lick or kiss to a new place - keep her on her toes, keep her guessing. He especially liked to suck right along the base of her clit, a spot that rewarded him with a tiny, upward jerk of her hips. He grinned against her, pleased with the result. He waited a few more moments before trying it again. This time the movement was more forceful.

He could do this all night long. Sometimes he’d needed to, with some of his dates. He always made it a point of pride that he didn’t get to come until they had. Some women were not used to this. Some women needed exactly the right touch or circumstances or finesse before they could come. He let them be his guide. They knew what felt good, what got them off. Only once had he been with a woman who insisted she couldn’t come, no matter what. That had been a very long night, but the result, when it finally happened, had been well worth the time spent.

He didn’t think Parker would need quite that long of a time, not if she let herself relax and find her groove. He could feel her leg muscles quivering, energy building up. He pressed his face into her folds, working his tongue with everything he had. The hand under her urged her into movement, up and down until she was moving against him in counterpoint to his tongue and head. The noises he made against her wet folds were nearing obscene, and he could hear Hardison murmuring encouragement. More noises began to escape Parker’s mouth, sighs turning into gasps, exhales into moans.

But something wasn’t quite right. He could feel the tension turning bad. Less build-up-to-orgasm now and more frustration. She began to coil tight, ready to spring away soon if he didn’t do something.

The hand holding her open reached up, seeking her hand that wasn’t in his hair. She gave it to him, a little choked sound escaping through clenched teeth. “It isn’t working,” she whispered.

Eliot pulled away from her lips to press kisses along her hips and belly. “You’re fine, sweetheart,” he murmured against her belly button. Not quite looking at her. More fierce kisses, trailing down and up. “You’re doing absolutely fine, Parker, you just need to relax. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, but didn’t relax an inch. Eliot swallowed, throat pressed against her pubic bone.

“Jazz?”

“Garfield.”

Eliot pulled away, just enough that he could look her in the eye. “That’s okay, Parker. That’s perfectly fine. Tell you what, let’s switch, okay?” He grabbed her hand, not quite pulling until she gave him the go-ahead. She eyed him warily. “I’m gonna lay down and you’re gonna be on top of my face, do whatever feels good to you, alright? Anything you want. Just - don’t break my nose.” Technically his nose hadn’t been broken that one time, but damn it had hurt like a fucker. And the girl hadn’t even been apologetic about it.

He unfolded himself, tugging Parker into an upright position. She went willingly, although she still seemed a little reserved. “Anything I want?”

Eliot hesitated. “You can use any part of my body from my head to my waist,” he amended. He didn’t think she wanted anything below there anyway, but it was best to clarify his own boundaries.

“I only want your mouth,” she assured him. She scooted to the edge of the couch; he started to get down to lie on the floor, but she caught his hand. “Stay. Here.” She pointed to where she’d been lying.

Except...Hardison was still there. And there was no way Eliot could lie on the couch without either his head or his feet getting real intimate with Hardison’s - very naked - lap.

Hardison patted his leg, surprisingly not smirking or teasing. “C’mon, man. I got you.” He couldn’t help but add, a tiny grin twisting his lips, “It don’t bite.”

It was exactly the right sort of challenge to get Eliot to throw himself down on the couch, head nestled right up against Hardison’s thigh. He shifted, freeing his trapped hair and throwing it across Hardison’s lap. He could feel Hardison struggle not to react to that. “I ain’t afraid of your ugly-ass cock.”

“Monster cock, I think is what you said earlier.”

“I never said no such thing.”

“Stop. Talking.” Parker climbed over Eliot’s face. He shifted until he was at a better angle for her to ride him. She grabbed hold of Hardison’s shoulder with one hand and the arm of the couch with the other, leaning forward to get better leverage. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Eliot’s lips brushed against her, and she began to move, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence. He opened his mouth, letting her use his tongue at her leisure. He licked and suckled at whatever he could, speeding up as she did. He let the scrape of his stubble rub against her inner thighs, heard her breath catch as she ground down on his mouth. He could feel her juices smearing all over his face and chin; it made him light-headed with desire. He couldn’t ignore his cock anymore, desperate now for release. Both his hands were busy supporting Parker; otherwise he would have grabbed himself and pumped in time with her movements.

“It’s not - it’s not quite -” Parker fought for words that wouldn’t come. Eliot gave her ass a squeeze, a silent reminder to do what she needed however she needed it. She rose off his face, shoved a hand between her thighs, and rubbed her clit against her flat palm until she came with a keening cry.

Eliot gently guided her back down, letting her sit on his chest as she came back to herself. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured. Above them he could hear Hardison whispering reassurances into her neck. “That was so fucking good.”

He took her wet hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He diligently cleaned each finger with his tongue, savoring this one last sample of her innate taste. By the time he had licked up every last trace and let her hand go, she had returned to her usual state of Parkerness, if a little more self-satisfied than usual ( _and that was really saying something_ ).

“I’m going to go shower,” she said, clambering off Eliot and disappearing into the bathroom before either man could formulate a coherent reply. Or maybe that was just Eliot.

Leaving him and Hardison alone now. Eliot let out a long, low breath, trying to control the pounding in his chest (and several inches lower, too). He should get out of there, he knew he should, or at the very least get his head off Hardison’s lap where it was clear he was aroused again ( _damn kid with his damn fast refractory period, better enjoy it while it lasts_ )and now Eliot _really_ needed to get up and get out of there except for that one big problem between his legs.

“You gonna want some help with that?” Hardison asked, and damn the laughter in his voice, damn the urge to say _yes, damnit, Hardison_.

“Ever been with a guy before?” he asked instead, voice crackling and rough.

“Nope.”

“Ever wanted to?” ( _Did it matter?_ )

Hardison hesitated slightly before answering, showing a good sense of discretion for a change. “Actually, yes.”

That gave Eliot the wherewithal to sit up and look him square in the face. He raised one eyebrow, silently requesting elaboration. If Hardison wanted to give it.

Hardison quirked a small smile at him. “I guess I lean more towards the ladies. At least that’s what I’ve always told myself. But you know, sometimes… occasionally… there’s a guy I really connect with and I think maybe… you know.”

“Hm.”

“Never got the chance to, though. You know how it is. Gotta be careful. Never know how someone might react if they find out I have a crush on them. Or any guy for that matter. Some dudes take it real personal, finding out a guy likes other guys sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Eliot shifted, looked away. Adjusted himself, which might have been a mistake because now Hardison was looking at his crotch with interest. “Connected with any guys recently?”

Hardison waggled his eyebrows. “Oh yeah. There’s this guy, this dude thinks he’s a total badass but turns out he’s really soft inside, right? You know the type. Shows one little emotion and has to spend the next week denying it. But he can’t help it. He cares a lot, and he makes it known by sharing his art with his friends. Me an’ him, we fight and argue, sometimes just goofing, sometimes for real. But I know he’s always got my back. And I hope he knows I’ve always got his. And the best thing is my girl is super into him, too. Means if he ever did want to, you know, get with the program...he’s welcome. In so, so many ways.”

It felt like someone had reached into Eliot’s chest and grabbed hold of his heart, squeezing and squeezing until it might implode. “I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“Into...into guys. Like that.” Maybe the hand was around his lungs instead, because he felt like he didn’t have enough air to push the words out.

“No? You just give out blowjobs for shits and giggles, then?”

Eliot licked his lips. His instinct was to run, to never, _ever_ talk about this night again. To never acknowledge it existed, even to himself. Instead, the words began falling loosely from his lips. “I had a buddy. In the army. We trained together. Got through the toughest shit in Basic together. There was this night - this hell night where we… well, it doesn’t matter. Some hazing shit, except you don’t call it hazing when it’s the Army doing it. He wanted to quit, but I got him to hold on through the night. We made it through.

“We used to talk about women almost nonstop. The girls back home, the girls in Basic, what we’d love to do to them if we could. But we knew better than to try. Some guys weren’t so smart. We saw what happened to them. The ones that got away with it? We saw what happened to the women. Made us sick. It wasn’t right. So we made a pact. After all, when you’re young and horny, and it’s dark, and you’re exhausted from running drills all day in a soaking wet uniform caked with sand, one hand is just as good as another. At some point hands became mouths. I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Maybe he was really into it. I don’t know. I didn’t ask, he didn’t tell. As we got deeper and deeper into Black Ops shit, we stuck closer and closer together. I loved him. A lot. Maybe even romantically, after a while. It was the closest I’d ever been with someone since Aimee, and some lines got blurred, I think. I don’t - I -”

Eliot cut himself off. Breathed. Hardison didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Eliot could hear the water still running in the bathroom, focused on that. “Eventually, he got out. We both did, but he went back to a normal life. I didn’t. You know that. Pushed all that stuff with my buddy away. He’s married now, has kids. I see him every once in a while. He’s doing good.”

The next bit was the hardest. He didn’t want Hardison to see him for who he really was - but he needed to _understand_. “I got deeper and deeper into the dark shit, you know that. I didn’t get involved with another man, not in that way. But at some point, some of the men I worked for found out I was almost as good at giving pleasure as I was doling out pain. I don’t remember how that came about.” He did, but he didn’t want to explain, not to Hardison. “Some guys liked that. Not - not always in a gay way. More like it was meant to demean me.”

“And you put up with it?” Disbelief, but not outrage. Quiet and so very not Hardison.

“When I wanted to.” Eliot’s hand flexed instinctively. “When doing so gave me the advantage. Sometimes an advantage simply meant staying alive for another day.” 

Maybe if he had stayed lying down it would be easier to avoid seeing the look in Hardison’s eye. Not quite pity, because nobody pitied Eliot Spencer and stayed conscious. But definitely something sad. “I had no idea.”

Eliot gave him a look of pure “yeah, no shit.” Regaining equilibrium and putting himself back in control, he said, “You didn’t need to. Does it change anything?”

Hardison let out a long breath. How the guy could sit there, so deep in thought, while still almost completely naked (though definitely less aroused now), Eliot couldn’t even imagine. “Not with our working relationship, no. But I think I get where you’re comin’ from now. Um. Do - do you think you could ever….?”

“I don’t know,” Eliot replied honestly. “Sometimes I think...maybe.”

A slow smile crept over Hardison’s face. “Not just for any guy, though.”

“No…” Eliot said, suspicion rising. Where was he going…?

“Have to be a _real_ special guy, huh?”

Ah. Eliot summoned his best glare. “Not really.”

“Yeah, he’d have to be a genius, to capture your attention. He’d have to be cream of the crop, the best of the best. He’d have to -”

Eliot pushed his body forward, capturing Hardison’s mouth with his own. He hadn’t kissed a guy in well over a decade ( _and that only twice, stolen little queries that they both ignored in the light of day_ ), wasn’t even really sure he wanted to now. But anything to get Hardison to shut up, to see those dark eyes widen in surprise and delight. It was just a simple press of lips to lips, but it did the trick. Eliot sat back, feeling rather smug himself.

“Oh. Well. Okay, yeah. That. Yes,” Hardison said eloquently.

Eliot snorted. Raising his voice, he called down the hall (the water was no longer running, and when had that happened?), “Parker, I broke Hardison.”

“Okay,” Parker yelled back.

Hardison scoffed. “Boy, I’ll give you ‘broken.’ Let’s see how broken I am next time you need me to hack into the Pentagon or Cracker Barrel or -”

“Hardison.”

“No. No, don’t you even ‘Hardison’ me. Show a guy a little hospitality -”

“I taught your girlfriend how to give a blowjob, you asshole,” Eliot growled.

“-and this is the thanks I get? You think you can ‘break’ me with just one kiss, nuh uh. Not Alec Hardison, not in -”

So Eliot did the only thing that made sense: he kissed him again.

This time when they broke apart, Hardison just sat and blinked for a moment. “So now every time I start ranting, is this what you’re gonna do?”

Eliot shook his head, just the tiniest of movements. “No. One show only.”

“No encores.” To his credit, Hardison kept a straight face as he said it, but Eliot knew he was thinking of the last time Eliot had said that. How well it had worked out for him. “Then can I -”

“Has he let you touch him yet?” Parker was back, having somehow transported back into the room without them seeing her. She was still naked but holding herself apart, staying on the other side of the coffee table. She would be sitting the rest of the action out, Eliot could tell.

“Workin’ on that, mama,” Hardison said. He reached his hand out, soft and gentle, like reaching for a half-tame horse. Eliot considered, briefly, giving him one of their special high fives and begging off to use their bathroom for a quick jerk, and then getting the hell out of there.

He didn’t, though. Instead, he reached his hand to meet Hardison’s and guided it to the front of his jeans. Hardison’s face lit up like Eliot had just given him the keys to the whole city. The whole world.

“It won’t take long,” Eliot warned. “I’m about ready to burst.”

“Do you want me to take your pants off?” Hardison asked, low and quiet.

And damn the man for sounding like that. Eliot kicked him in the shin, none too gentle. “Damnit, Hardison, don’t treat me like Parker. I ain’t gonna spook on ya if you do something I don’t like. I’ll just whack the back of your head.” He settled down on the couch, leaning back against the cushions. Making himself comfortable. Raising his eyebrows at Hardison when he didn’t immediately get a move on.

Hardison snorted and shook his head, murmured something about high maintenance people. Eliot rolled his eyes. He was about as high maintenance as a junkyard dog. Still, Hardison settled into a comfortable position at Eliot’s side and undid the buttons on his jeans, pulled the zip down. God, Eliot hadn’t been lying about how badly he needed to come. Every brush of material against his cock was driving him crazy. He lifted his hips and shoved his pants and underwear down to his knees, not bothering to take them fully off.

Hardison huffed at Eliot’s impatience, but then hesitated. “Do I, uh…”

Eliot growled - literally growled like a dog. “Figure it out,” he said. “I’m done teaching you two how to have sex. Figure it out like every other bumbling virgin on the planet.”

Hardison touched Eliot with a tentative hand for all of 0.5 seconds before jerking his hand back like he’d been burned. It took every ounce of Eliot’s restraint not to grab him or hit him. “What?!”

“My hands are kinda dry, I should probably get some lube or something - uh, like, I heard olive oil works? Maybe I can just real quick -”

“ _Do not grease me up like I’m a fucking salad, Hardison_ ,” Eliot snapped. “Make do, or I’ll do it myself.”

“Fine, but don’t complain to me when you chafe,” Hardison huffed. If his hand was trembling a little when he gripped Eliot (more firmly now, Eliot was very satisfied to note), Eliot did not feel bad for him.

He wasn’t wrong, though - his hand was a little dry. Was that from playing with electronics all day or did Hardison just have dry hands? Eliot had never noticed before. The first couple of strokes were rough, bordering on uncomfortable. Eliot had been leaking precum for a while now, however, so Hardison used that to help smooth things out.

Hardison was good with his hands. Eliot was hardly surprised, but to feel that skill now working him up and down caused his brain to turn to mush. Under normal circumstances, Eliot would make a quip about Hardison having plenty of practice with his right hand, but he could barely grunt, let alone form a coherent sentence. Hardison explored him, testing out the right balance of firmness, speed, and tenderness. He gave Eliot a little squeeze that pulled a sharp cry from his lungs. He did it again, and Eliot nearly saw stars.

Eliot wanted to hold on as long as possible, but this whole night was catching up with him - the stress, the vulnerability, the desire. He rocked his hips up into Hardison’s hand, urging him to go faster. A pair of lips materialized on his neck, kissing, nibbling, whispering words that didn’t quite reach Eliot’s brain. Words threatened to slip out of his own mouth, and only years of training stopped him from spilling his deepest feelings right then and there. Eliot knew, somewhere in a corner of his mind, that if he opened his mouth now, all Hardison would get would be a serial number and location. Because if this wasn’t a torture - a sweet but still very dangerous torture of the heart - then Eliot didn’t know himself as well as he thought.

So he kept his lips firmly shut and let Hardison’s words wash over him in waves - or maybe that was just his pleasure cresting as he let go and came all over himself and Hardison’s hand.

Eliot’s ears buzzed as he came back down from his high. He felt vague and disoriented, eyes unfocused - but he snapped back to attention when he saw, through his haze, Hardison lift his hand to his mouth.

Eliot’s hand shot out to stop him before Hardison could complete the motion. He shook his head. Couldn’t speak quite yet, but gently guided Hardison’s hand back down and gestured for Parker to toss his soiled shirt to them. He wiped Hardison’s hand with shaky fingers.

Hardison stroked Eliot’s hair with his free hand. He didn’t ask why Eliot had stopped him, and after a minute or so - when Hardison’s hand was long since clean and Eliot kept rubbing it just because - he could finally speak. “I get tested every six months, but I get bled on so much. And I get cut up, too. I can’t always be careful. You never know.”

Hardison nodded. “I didn’t even think, Eliot. My bad.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, Hardison pressed up against Eliot’s side as Eliot regained control over his heartbeat and breathing. Eventually, Parker slid over to them and rested her head on Eliot’s knee. He reached down to her and brushed his fingertips through her damp hair.

He needed to get up. Leave. He needed…. He needed a lot of things. Some of which he couldn’t bear to think about right now. His eyes drifted shut, blocking out the worst of the nagging thoughts. _Breathe_.

After a several long minutes, during which Hardison started to drift off to sleep, Eliot began, “I-”

“No.”

Eliot lifted his head to look down at Parker. “No?”

“No ‘I should leave’ or ‘I’m going now’ or ‘I want to forget this night ever happened.’” She turned her bright eyes up to him, staring straight into his soul. Laying him open for the world to see. Actually, just the people in this room, but to Eliot, that _was_ the whole world. “It’s late, and you’re exhausted. You’re staying here tonight.”

He wanted to argue, but she was right. About everything. Still, he couldn’t give in right away and actually let her know that. “I ain’t doin’ no such thing.”

“Double negative,” she said. “That means you _are_ doing such thing.”

Hardison snickered against Eliot’s neck. Eliot just sighed. “Fine. But I’m sleepin’ on the couch.”

“Fine.”

“And you’re drinkin’ water before you go to bed.” He glanced at Hardison. “Both of you.”

Parker made a disgruntled noise, wrinkling up her nose, but Hardison just murmured, “Okay,” and snuggled closer.

Eliot squinted at him. “‘Okay?’”

“Mmmm hmmmm. Before I go to bed. Got it.” And made zero attempt to move. If anything, he relaxed even further, putting more weight on Eliot. They were definitely starting to list sideways now.

“And when are you planning on going to bed, exactly?”

“Nuh uh. You said you wasn’t gonna sleep in our bed. Tha’s fine. But you ain’t never said anythin’ about us not joining you on the couch.”

Eliot grumbled. “Aren’t you going to point out his double negative?” he asked Parker.

“No, I only point them out when they get me what I want.”

Eliot’s heart was starting to speed up again, and not in the fun way from earlier. He pulled his hands away from Parker and Hardison, resisting the urge to clench them. Hardison sat up a little, sensing something was wrong. “You okay, man?”

Eliot breathed slowly, pulling in deep lungfuls of air. If this was what Hardison felt like in tight spaces, it fucking sucked. No wonder he panicked. “Go. Just go get that water and go to bed, I’m not joking.”

Hardison pulled away, tapped Parker’s arm to get her to stand up, too. Eliot lifted his hips enough to drag his pants back up and fasten them.

While Hardison disappeared into the kitchen, Parker lingered. She grabbed a throw pillow and a soft blanket that they sometimes used during movie nights when one or more of them would get cold. “Will you still be here when I wake up?” ( _“I” not “we” because there was no telling when Hardison would manage to drag his ass out of bed_.)

“Maybe,” he said, unwilling to lie to her, ever. ( _“Don’t ask me because I will tell you.”_ ) “I’ll try.”

Hardison returned, carrying three glasses of water all braced together in his big hands. Eliot shivered a little, remembering what it felt like to have one of those hands wrapped around him. He wouldn’t be able to forget this night any time soon, no matter what Parker thought. Eliot took one of the glasses and gulped the water down, suddenly parched.

Parker drained her glass as well, pulling a face. Hardison sipped his a little more gracefully. Parker ducked down as Eliot settled onto the couch, pulling the blanket up over his bare chest. She pressed one last kiss to his lips before flitting off to the bedroom.

Hardison finished off the last of his water, set the glass down. Shadowing Parker’s earlier movements, he swooped down to claim Eliot’s lips once more. “Good night, E.”

“‘Night.”

\---

When Parker woke up the next morning (later that same morning, technically, the sun fully up behind the ever-present Portland drizzle), Eliot was already gone. On the coffee table sat a tray piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns, and orange juice. Enough for two people. And in the kitchen, evidence of Eliot having already eaten his portion and left.

None of that was surprising. Parker hadn’t gone to bed with high hopes of seeing Eliot when she woke up. What _did_ surprise her was that next to the sumptuous meal, there was a single-serve box of Froot Loops.

Cereal.

She picked it up, a smile dancing across her lips. It was too deliberate to be anything but code.

Operation: Cereal had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have embarked on a new writing project, more of a con-fic. I *think* I can tie it in with this fic, so I might consider them to be part of a series. If you're looking for more "Operation: Cereal" stay tuned for my Anger Management fic (If I ever manage to write it lol). Basically: as part of a con, Eliot has to enter an Anger Management program, and by doing so actually has to face his emotions for a change.


End file.
